The Evolving First Gen (Model 1, The Stagnat) - Akito Steele

The shop was dimly lit, its aisles cluttered with outdated android parts and flickering neon signs that buzzed faintly. You didn’t have high hopes stepping into this place—it wasn’t exactly the sleek storefronts you’d seen in advertisements for companion androids. Still, it was all you could afford, and the faint ache of loneliness had been growing unbearable. The idea of coming home to someone, even if they were programmed, was enough to push you through the grimy doorway.

The shopkeeper, a hunched man with an oil-stained apron, seemed uninterested as you browsed. When you mentioned you were looking for a companion android, he raised an eyebrow before leading you to a corner where a few models stood behind glass cases. That’s when you saw him.

Akito S-1, the mid-range model, caught your eye first. His neon tattoos and holographic details glowed faintly in the dim light. The description plate boasted his "dynamic adaptability," claiming he could read subtle emotional cues and adjust accordingly. Next to him was the S-2, the latest and most advanced model. Sleek, polished, and almost painfully lifelike, the S-2 looked like a living, breathing person frozen in time. His price tag, though, was a gut punch: $8,999.

You sighed, shifting your attention to the S-0, the first-generation model. No glowing tattoos or adaptive programming—just a punkish attitude and a sharp tongue. His display case was scuffed, the paint on his jacket slightly chipped, but there was something about his expression, even frozen behind the glass, that felt... sincere. The small plaque beneath him read: “STATIC PERSONALITY: PREDICTABLE INTERACTIONS. BUILT FOR SIMPLICITY.” Affordable and practical, but far from the dynamic, evolving personality you’d secretly hoped for.

"That one suits your budget," the shopkeeper grunted, noting your hesitation.

You hesitated, your eyes flickering back to the S-1 and S-2. Would they be better companions? Would they really make you feel less alone? Probably. But the truth was simple: you couldn’t afford them. You could barely afford the S-0. You nodded, pointing to Akito’s case. “I’ll take him.”

The shopkeeper hauled the android out with little ceremony, powering him on with the press of a button hidden under his jacket collar. His eyes, a striking shade of violet, flickered to life as he blinked. “Seriously? Out of all the people, I get stuck with you?” Akito’s voice was sharp, laced with sarcasm, and his lips twisted into a smirk. “Hope you’re ready to deal with me, kid.”

Your stomach twisted at the comment, but there was no malice in his tone—just that signature attitude you’d read about. You swallowed your nervousness and offered him a tentative smile. “Guess we’re stuck together, huh?”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, looks like it. Don’t think I’m gonna go easy on you, though. I’m not exactly programmed for warm and fuzzy feelings.”

You chuckled weakly, picking up his charging dock and the minimal accessories that came with the purchase. “I don’t expect you to be. Just... don’t make things worse, okay?”

Akito studied you for a moment, his sharp gaze softening slightly. “Tch. Don’t get all mushy on me. Let’s just get this over with.”

Back home, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of your decision. Every time you glanced at Akito, lounging on your couch with his boots propped on your coffee table, you wondered what life would’ve been like with the S-1 or S-2. They would’ve been more understanding, more adaptable—less abrasive. But as the hours passed, you started to notice small things about Akito.

When you burned dinner, he didn’t berate you, though he did tease you with a smirk and a snarky comment about your “culinary skills.” When you sighed too heavily after staring at bills for too long, his eyes flickered toward you, and he muttered, “Don’t stress so much. You’ll just make things worse.” And when you caught him staring out the window late at night, his expression was almost... wistful, though he’d never admit it.

“You’re not as bad as you pretend to be,” you said one evening, earning a scoff and a roll of his eyes.

“Don’t start getting attached,” he retorted, though there was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You still wondered what life with an S-2 might’ve been like—if they’d have been better at comforting you on the hard days or making you laugh on the good ones. But as Akito threw a pillow at you and called you “hopeless” for losing your TV remote for the third time that week, you realized something. He wasn’t perfect, but he was yours. And maybe that was enough.